


Cavalry

by Lochinvar



Series: The Song of Wandering Aengus [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Dean Winchester, Big Damn Heroes, Brotherly Love, Comfort, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Episode: s10e12 About A Boy, Ficlet, Gen, Horses, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Mythical Beings & Creatures, No Smut, POV First Person, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam-Centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 19:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12196308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lochinvar/pseuds/Lochinvar
Summary: Sam is in iconic, predictably dire straits, sorely wounded, delusional, abandoned in a ditch in remote, rural Kansas, and waiting to die.And in a fever dream, he hears Dean coming for him. Baby’s roar morphs into something grander.What Sam feels when Dean pulls a “Dean Winchester” and saves him, again.





	Cavalry

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by About a Boy, Season 10, Episode 12: Sam’s closing conversation with Dean.
> 
> Also inspired by a hundred movies, from Stagecoach to Lord of the Rings, during those moments when salvation comes on horseback. I think Sam probably saw most of those movies as well. And his dreams are filled with details of Hunters from a thousand mythologies and cultures.
> 
> Action!

Can’t talk. Choked out a breath that caught in my throat and died. 

A murder of chains holds my wrists. My face is grey, washed in blood.

I drift in the deep, tired revenant snow of spring; the earth faults beneath me.

The soundtrack sings defeat.

_Cowboys and Cossacks, Mongols and Comanche_

Dawn exhales in my ear. A Kansas meadowlark trills, hidden in an exaltation of last season’s prairie grass, poking long, brittle, chestnut and rust fingers towards Heaven. A new sun pushes the stars aside. The endless night falls in tatters.

_Tartars and Bedouins, Gauchos and Amazons_

I hear distant thunder like heavy artillery from a storm cell forming near the Colorado border.

I see a glory of grey Shires with calm eyes led by uniformed Hunters from a dew-stained field onto a hard-packed clay road. The silent women and men are strapped tight in iron and black leather, faces striped in woad and blood.

They mount, heavy with armor and weapons. The sweet-faced brutes walk, trot, canter, gallop. Hoof beats drum the air.

_Knights and Samurai, Valkyries and Rangers_

More horses join their great cousins. Lipizzaners capriole for the fun of it. Feral mustangs, never shod, pound the dirt, mounted bareback by warriors from a dozen nations. Wild and wilder.

Arabians with teacup muzzles, deceptively fine-boned, dance. Everything is play to them. Born of the South Wind: They can run forever. They are ridden by tame djinn and play tag with their blue-skinned protectors. Silver thread is woven into white manes, sigils painted on bay coats, tattooed into their black skin.

The brigade lines up for battle, 3000 strong. They rear towards Heaven. The ground quakes.

They are coming. On my side. On our side.

The music shifts. The lark climbs the sky, leading the sun to noon. The snow flees. The chain melts.

They are playing Dean’s song.

**Author's Note:**

> Own nothing; rely on the kindness of strangers.
> 
> Kudos and comments appreciated - thank you.
> 
> [Light editing, December 2, 2017]


End file.
